Contenders
by Anigen
Summary: Set after the bomb, Clarke has to deal with the repercussions of her actions and the only person to see things as they are is Murphy. "Which begs the question, if you're not a princess anymore Princess, what are you"


Written while listening to: Funny you should ask – The front bottoms

Fandom: the 100

Lyrics: "It's funny you should ask, because I don't remember… I could have been a contender…but I was young I thought I didn't have to care about anyone, now I'm older now I know that I should"

Time: after the bomb, but Murphy and Jaha haven't left yet.

Chapter 1: Graves

Clarke whipped her brow as sweat carved a path through the dirt and grime on her face. She couldn't remember ever feeling this dirty before. Not when fighting the grounders, or trying to make her way back from Mount Weather with Anya, not after that first night on the ground or even after she'd killed Finn. She thought she'd be ok as they found more and more survivors, more people who she hadn't murdered, because then it would just be a mistake. A few lives lost but still alright for the most part, and still helping the cause. They'd found a few of the towns people, some young grounder kids, a few warriors, Idra, Kane, Octavia and Lincoln. Apparently a lot more people were around the woods than she'd thought. But there should have been so much more, and her mom was right, this was something that she couldn't walk away from. Unlike Lexa.

The bomb, being a little over 97 years old hadn't gone off like it should have, and most of the destruction was from the impact and the chemicals steadily leaking out. There was blood on her hands, but according to Lexa they should be glad that it wasn't as much as they first thought, they were lucky that most of the army hadn't been wiped out, and Bellamy was still safe. Lexa kept telling her that they made the right choice, but every time she looked at the pile of bodies, those who were a little too close, those who couldn't be pulled from the burning village of the tree people, she knew that Lexa was wrong. That she was wrong about all but one thing, Clarke was lucky, but it wasn't because the army had survived but because she should have more blood on her hands. For the first time, she'd been too afraid to afraid to speak up, she thought that someone else knew better than her gut and it'd cost them innocent lives. Sure it gave them a chance to surprise their enemy, but a chance at making some progress had left a few hundred tree people homeless and even more dead, and it was all Clarke's fault.

She sighed as she looked at the pile of bodies and the few sky people who'd been sent by her mother as a way to help her wayward daughter. Some were helping salvage belongings, Kane was helping Lexa look for a new home, Octavia and Lincoln stood by Idra, constantly searching the perimeter for signs of attack and the other grounder leaders seemed to be speaking to themselves. It was a tense calm, that couldn't be mistaken for peace in a million years, characterized by the familiar silence of loss. The only real sounds being the sporadic conversations, the moving of wood and the digging. She hated the digging almost as much as she hated the silence its self. But it like her guilt was unavoidable, just like the only other sky person, if you could call him that, currently digging graves; John Murphy.

His face had started to heal and his hair hung in his eyes but he looked relatively alright. Better than many of the people around him, and almost at peace. Or something close to it, the only things that showed how unsettled he was, being the harsh crunching of earth against the hard metal of the shovel and the wild look in his eyes. It was strange, because she'd always thought his gaze was cold, but now he looked like a wild animal or a child waiting to be attacked. It didn't suit his face.

"Nice work" The words slipped past her lips before she knew they were coming but she didn't regret them, because they'd led to a surprised look passing over his face and the god forsaken digging to stop, even for a minute.

"Well, well, well, nice of you to grace me with your presence. Glad to see you approve of my work, Princess. It's almost as nice as yours" his voice was smooth, calculating and a little charming. He was a showman, she'd give him that. But she hated the way he said her nickname… moniker… title? She didn't know what to call it, because she wasn't a princess. It was just a thing, first Finn, then Bellamy, then the grounders. She'd never asked for it, and from his lips it sounded, wrong, dirty.

But she supposed that from now on it always would

"Don't call me that," she mumbled looking down at the ground before moving forward and grabbing an extra shovel. "I'm not a princess." It came out as a growl.

"Touchy, touchy, Sky Princess Clarke" his face seemed to light up as his hands came in a surrender motion and his gaze met her own. "Since when?" he asked "I thought you'd accepted your title whole heartedly and even began to socialize with the other royalty."

"It's not like that"

"But isn't it? Your golden knight turned black and your black knight got himself a white horse, and even the queen and king bend to your will," he stopped digging all together. "Princess" His gaze stayed focused on Clarke as she began digging deeper. Her shovel piercing the soft earth with such ferocity he could almost hear the growls she accented them with.

"Don't call me that"

"Why it's, what you are…" He paused taking in each of her movements. The tense way her shoulder braced against the smooth handle of the shovel. How her fingers, wrapped in a dirty, once white cloth bit in to each other as they circled the shaft of the shovel and how every ounce of energy she had seemed to be built on not looking at the bodies, not looking at the destruction and just focusing on the hole she was digging ."Unless you aren't anymore?" It was almost a whisper but she heard it, and looked up at him.

"Keep digging" Her voice came out harsher than she meant it to be, and he paused for a moment as he debated on not following her orders. It was only a moment between him removing the spade from the dirt and her almost steadfast devotion to continuing to dig deeper. Her eyes met his quickly before returning to her methodical digging, it was a flicker but it was enough motivation for him to move closer and lean on the handle of shovel as she kept going.

"Which begs the question, if you're not a princess anymore Princess, what are you" He leaned closer watching the way her shoulders shook and her grip tightened.

"I don't know" it was soft but he'd heard it, and it was enough "good" he muttered before moving to finish the edges of the grave he'd been digging out before tossing the shovel into the cavern and stepping down in to the almost finish but not quite deep enough hole. They'd been told to make them as deep as possible. The deeper the grave the more bodies they could burry.


End file.
